Finding Orthodoxy
by Evertherambler
Summary: Helga doesn't want to die. She very much wants to live. But we all have to some day or another right? Thoughts like these plague her endlessly, that is, until a certain football-headed boy helps her to discover a new meaning for life...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. I wrote this first chapter at 3 am last night after having scoured for Hey Arnold Christian fanfiction. I found one or two, and they were good in their own ways, but I didn't find any that really resonated with me. I realise hey Arnold is a non-religious cartoon and all, and that none of the characters makes reference to being spiritual in any way (aside from that one episode about Harold's bar mitzvah), but I still want to read a Hey Arnold story where the characters share my beliefs... SO that's what I'm going to do. Hopefully others like it too- non-religious or otherwise. Enjoy!**

Helga was conflicted. Her way of the life, the shouting and calling names, it was a facade to a certain extent, unlike she'd previously believed. After all, it was so easy to come home at the end of the day and prance around spouting poetry and love for Arnold. Weep when she mad or upset. Grin obsessively over her favourite romance novels. So yes, to a certain extent it was a facade... however... what if it wasn't? What if she just had a genuinely bad personality? It was a habit now, to insult. Ridicule. Taunt. In fact, she had to admit... she even somewhat enjoyed it. But lately, Helga felt a sense of longing for something more.

She'd filled the hole with love for Arnold, praying at her football headed shrine for relief. Alas... she still felt... empty. Confused.

Recently she began to think of the meaning of life. Her purpose. Her reason for being. And ultimately the more and more she lingered on it... she began to fear death. So, could she help it then, when bouts of depression began to spur right out of control? Was it her fault when she couldn't force herself from the never-ending toil of emotion raging within in her? These thoughts plagued her as she walked down the halls of Hillwood high, her headphones blasting rock music in her ears as though to distract her.

"Helga... is everything alright?"

His hand brushed her shoulder lightly, and immediately, the half-dazed girl spun around to meet his green-eyed gaze.

Pulling off her headphones, she made her best effort to address him in a polite manner.

"What the hell do you want?"

Arnold rolled his eyes and reiterated, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Obviously. It's you who needs help, with that abnormally sized head of yours. How do you get through doors anyway?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny Helga.."

He shot her an unamused half-lidded gaze that was by now, very familiar to her.

"I know. I'm bloody hilarious." She responded, rolling her eyes in mock humour.

She didn't care much for small banter... not normally anyway. However, with Arnold, it was always a different story. She could stand him lecturing her for 12 hours if it so well pleased him to do so. And, very likely when he finished, she'd thank him for it.

"You haven't been sleeping." He said quietly, staring at the bags under her eyes, her uncombed hair and lazily thrown on dress (that disgustingly hadn't been washed in a week). Helga bowed her head in shame, pissed at herself for allowing the love of her life to see her in such a state, but quickly turned the anger onto Arnold instead. A mechanism she'd been using since she was four.

"For your INFORMATION pasteforbrains, I am perfectly FINE. I've slept a solid 5 hours."

"What about yesterday night? You didn't look too good yesterday either."

This silenced Helga for a little, and she turned her gaze to her fumbling feet. She didn't want to admit it, but she hadn't properly slept the whole week. Five hours was much as she'd gotten in the last five days, and that didn't even compare to what she'd managed to accomplish LAST week. She saw Arnold's feet stepping closer toward her and felt his hand rest on her shoulder properly this time. She made no effort to shrug it off.

"I'm asking because I care Helga. Is something the matter? Do you need help? Or maybe someone to talk to? I'll bend backwards if you need me to,"

'Stupid... loving... beautiful football head."

She knew if she looked up she'd begin to burst into tears, probably fall into his arms or something like they did in all those fanfictions she'd read. So instead she did as was typical for Helga G Pataki and pushed him away.

Or at least tried to. Her hand kind of got caught in his.

"Seriously Helga. Let me help you," he held onto her hand tightly, as though letting go would be her death.

So dramatic. Maybe he also read too many fanfictions. That would be GREAT.

"Keep holding my hand if you're looking to be knocked into oblivion hair boy." She hissed, noticing more and more eyes on them, curious and judgmental. How she loathed teenage minds. How she wanted to crush them under her iron-clad boots (how she longed for iron-clad boots).

"Fine, if you're embarrassed," Arnold started, having seen her heated cheeks and darting eyes, "let's talk somewhere else."

He then proceeded to pull her down the hall (Helga willingly, but begrudgingly following along) stopping at the door of the famous broom closet Helga had been known for occupying.

"Step into my office I guess." She muttered, with unintended amusement in her voice.

The door literally had a plaque with her name on it. The school board had become tired of removing and replacing it with its real one. Once inside, Helga felt a million times better and strode to her desk confidently. Prepared to handle (and likely avoid) any questions coming her way.

"Helga, will you stop sitting with your legs crossed on top of the desk? It's not very polite..."

"Your existence isn't very polite." She retaliated almost immediately. Arnold snorted but quickly caught himself and reverted back to his stern gaze.

"I feel like I'm dealing with a toddler..." he sighed, falling into the seat across from her. He had such a look of defeat, weariness after years of dealing with this mess of a girl, that Helga could not help but feel a little sorry.

Although the feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar if she was being honest. Her love for Arnold always made her too sappy for her own good. Which is probably why she said this...

"I'm going to die."

Arnold was silent for a moment, then his eyes widened, and his head jerked up, a look of confusion and worry written in his features.

Realising what she said, Helga rushed to clarify her string of thoughts, "That is to say, what I meant was... one day. One day I'm going to die. We're going to die. Both you and me and everyone else on this planet. And I don't know... I don't know what to do about it you know? I don't want to believe that I'll be a bag of dust at the end of this life. I want so much more, and it petrifies me... because... if I'm not here for a reason, then why am I here? What's... okay I'm going to sound completely nuts... but I want to know the meaning of life. It's cliché I know but, it's valid till this day! We don't have a clue! And even if we did-"

"Love." Arnold interjected suddenly, a smile forming on his lips. "The answer is love. You don't sound nuts don't worry. I think everyone in their lives goes through a stage of being unable to understand their being and self-worth. Now you might not agree with what I say, but I'll tell you anyway... how do you feel about Christianity?"

His tone of voice was soft and soothing, as per usual, but at that moment especially she felt like Arnold knew exactly what was going through her head. Not because he could read minds, doi that's impossible, but because he too had experienced the fear of death.

"... I don't know." Helga admittedly replied, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear, and resting her head in the palm of her hand. No matter what she did, she couldn't seem to look at Arnold. "I always thought the idea of a God was dumb... a way past death or something... but now I'm not so sure. You got any proof for me?"

"My heart. Experiences. The Bible, although you might not count that as proof."

"Not at all."

"Didn't think so," he smiled, and she wondered how a boy so patient and loving could exist.

"But also, about that," she said, cutting him off before he'd been able to speak, "how do you know which ones the real one? Like there are probably thousands of bibles in the world. And the thousands of religions to go with it. What if yours is wrong you know?"

Arnold smiled again, lowered his eyes to the ground, the raised them back up Helga, his expression changed to something resembling concern, "Helga, to reiterate, religion is a very serious topic and I don't want you to feel differently about me because of the things I say..."

"Nah don't worry. I'm cool with it," Helga interceded once again, "believe me, I'm not sensitive to all that stuff. You believe what you believe. That's A-okay with me. I'd love to hear about it."

'What he doesn't know is how fast I'd convert for him' she thought.

"The KJV Bible is the most historically accurate bible." Arnold begun, pulling his chair closer to the desk, "There are others, but if you're looking for authenticity, there's your answer. I read the NKJV which is essentially just the more modern translation of the KJV."

"Okay..." She thought about how she was going to say what she would say next and discovered it would sound rude regardless, so she just said it, "But like, how authentic is it really? How do you know anything in that book is true? What if it was just written by deluded idiots who believed they could talk to God or whatever?"

He sighed a little, but continued speaking in a patient tone of voice, "It was written by prophets and saints years apart, and nothing is inconsistent which provides evidence of its being true. The saints, especially in the New Testament all, had different accounts of the story of Jesus, things they couldn't have possibly seen or made up, all different voices and people."

"Woah…"

"Yeah, but what's most amazing is the same stories that were written by those different people. What I mean is, they were written years apart with no way of knowing what had gone on. Also, before you mention it, no there was no way for them to come together and cultivate a plan to say the same things. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, but the brilliance of the Bible is a wonder to behold, and I think those who doubt it haven't bothered to look past the first page. Did you know that the bible actually foretold discoveries that we didn't know until thousands of years later?"

"Had no idea,"

"Right? Like they knew that the earth hung on nothing in space before scientists realized that was, in fact, the case. And this is only a tiny portion..."

"Okay, so you're telling me this and... it isn't really changing my mind. It's interesting, but who's to say it's proof? So, what that they predicted some vague idea of reality? Where's the solid evidence. Cause I'm not seeing any."

"Come to church with me," Arnold said then, his brow raised and piercing greens eyes drowning out the noise outside. "I can't explain everything, or we'll be here all day."

She couldn't bloody well say no. He was asking her to go with him someplace outside of school. Not quite a date admittedly, but... still just the two of them. This was a brilliant opportunity to show him how sensitive she could be!

"I don't really like all that 'Praise God' bullshit. It's too… I don't know... fake?"

"I'm Orthodox." He replied, smiling contently at her.

She had no idea what that meant, but she had a feeling would soon find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE: This is the Orthodox Church chapter. A lot of explaining is... explained? Be warned! Credit to "Call me Nellie" for giving me scriptural inspiration.**

Helga looked at herself in the mirror, gleaming with pride at her mad makeup skills. How elegant she looked. Certainly, enough to impress that bozo Arnold. She glided down the steps to receive him at the door, but when his eyes caught hers, confusion clouded his features. He was pursuing his lips as though to keep from saying anything.

"What's the face for football head? Don't I look ravishing?" as though to make her point, she did a little twirl.

Helga wore a knee-length rose coloured dress, with thin straps and a lacy cardigan. Her hair was as usual, in two pigtails and tied with a large pink bow.

"Of course, you do… but…" his gaze lingered at her feet as he spoke, "I don't think the shoes are church appropriate. I suggest wearing something a little more comfortable."

Helga frowned deeply. What was his deal with her shoes? She'd picked out her best heels. Just for him! And here he was criticizing her for it. That didn't sound like the Arnold she knew and loved.

"Look Arnoldo. Either we go, or we don't. It's up to you. But I am not going back to the house to change, understand?"

"Whatever you say, Helga…" Arnold muttered after an age of silence. He looked like he wanted to say something but better not. Heaving a sigh, he added under his breathe, "She'll find out soon enough."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

They made it to the church on time, and Helga had to admit, it was more impressive than she'd thought it would be. It resembled something of a castle… although not quite. The outside was entirely white with a beautiful dome on the top (surrounded by other smaller domes) in a light shade of blue. She later found the large dome inside to be painted with the image of Jesus Christ. Beneath him on the wall was the Virgin Mary (or Theotokos as Arnold called her, meaning 'God-bearer'), and beneath her many saints and prophets. There was a golden chandelier hanging above them and candles everywhere placed on golden candelabra. There were long wooden seats on either side of a rolled out red carpet leading up to the front of the church where, standing at the front, a priest stood with a long white beard and robes of white and gold. Behind him, a large thin wall of gold- ornate with images of saints. There were three doors to the room behind the wall, two on the side and one in the middle.

Helga was told to light a candle on her way in and kiss the images at the front, or Icons as Arnold called them. Arnold also taught her how to do her cross which meant joining her first three fingers (which Arnold explained symbolised something called the Trinity) and touching her forehead, stomach, right shoulder and left shoulder in that order three times over. The room was filled with men and women, young and old, each on either side.

Helga felt Arnold's hand grab hers and she sighed inwardly as he pulled her up a staircase and onto a balcony that overlooked the room. It was, much like the bottom, filled with long wooden seats propped on wide ascending stairs.

"Stand up Helga…"

She did as was told, despite being a little annoyed at having to stand mere seconds after sitting. There were no instruments, no bands or the like, just a chorus of men in long black garments singing off to the side of the priest in perfect harmony. Only… their words were not in rhyme or song. They were chanting. She didn't hate it. In fact, she had to admit… it was sort of breathtaking. It was as though angels were chanting in the room with them, the atmosphere warm and, for lack of a better word… holy.

And then came the pain in her feet.

"How long until it ends?" She quietly hissed at Arnold. It had been an hour of ceaseless standing and she felt her feet cramping horribly. There were intervals where they could sit down for five minutes or so, but that was in no way enough for Helga, whose feet had begun searing from pain around the half-hour mark.

"I told you you'd regret wearing those shoes,"

"Yeah yeah, you can brag about it later, just tell me how long until this suffering ends!"

"Three hours."

"WHAT."

Helga wanted to sock him so hard then and there, but something told her it wouldn't go down well, so she kept her fists to herself.

"Helga are you okay?" Arnold asked worriedly, seeing her face turn pale, "If you like, you can sit down you know. If it's hurting too much."

Helga only nodded. The chair, despite being hard and wooden, felt like a dream. She'd really come to appreciate it in such a small time. It was also far easier to concentrate on what the priest was saying when her feet weren't killing her.

The priest stopped chanting and begun to speak, his voice was soft but strangely powerful. He spoke about how to avoid sin and becoming closer to Christ. But there was something he said that really stuck out to Helga, a verse he quoted specifically, "…Timothy 3:16-17. All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work."

His words vertebrated through her, a sudden understanding taking form in her mind. This scripture they spoke about, it was the bible, right? And this one book was the answer to life, given to man by God? It didn't sound possible. She was going to have to investigate it herself. The priest was praying and facing his back to them. A priest who prayed with his back turned to the people was something she'd never seen before. Many people joined in as he began (Arnold later explained to her that they'd been reciting 'The Creed'. A testament of the Orthodox faith, a reminder of what they believed). It went something like this…

I believe in one God, Father Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,

the only-begotten Son of God,

begotten of the Father before all ages,

light from light,

true God from true God,

begotten not made,

of one essence with the Father;

through him all things were made.

Who for us and for our salvation came down from heaven,

and was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary,

and became human,

and was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate,

and suffered and was buried,

and rose on the third day according to the Scriptures,

and ascended into heaven,

and is seated at the right hand of the Father,

and will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end.

And in the Holy Spirit,

the Lord,

the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father,

who together with the Father and the Son is worshipped and glorified,

and who spoke through the Prophets.

In one holy, catholic and apostolic Church.

I acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

I expect the resurrection of the dead,

and the life of the age to come.

Amen.

After the Creed was recited, everyone filed in a line across the red carpet leading to the priest. Square pieces of bread were held in a golden basket to the side (which was propped on a golden pole-like holder… thing). Helga was instructed to say her name when she got to the end of the line and allow herself to be fed 'the blood and body of Christ' which was basically just wine and bread. She would then walk over to the basket and take a piece of square bread that had been blessed and walk back down the side to her seat. It was an awkward experience, to say the least. When her turn came, she hadn't known when to say her name, so she'd said it first thing and then she realised she'd meant to say it during the prayer and she didn't because she already had and ugh…. It was a mess.

That said, she didn't mind the taste of the wine, and the bread was soft and delicious (especially seeing as the football had told her not to eat or drink anything before the service, so she was starving).

When the Divine Liturgy was over, and they returned to the boarding house (by foot), Helga collapsed onto Arnold's floor with sheer exhaustion. Five seconds later she threw off her shoes quickly as she could.

"I'm throwing them in the trash!" she exclaimed, falling back onto the ground in defeat.

"Oh, don't do that Helga. They're nice shoes you know?"

Helga shot him a death glare which he answered with a mischievous grin.

"You could have told me WHY you wanted me to wear comfortable shoes. I thought you were saying it for modesty reasons or something."

"You didn't give me a choice to speak Helga. You yourself said, 'I'm not going back in the house to change', don't you remember?" he said in defence, bending down to meet her gaze.

Helga blushed a little and turned her eyes from his. To avoid further embarrassment, she pulled herself from where she'd been lying on the carpeted floor and strode to his bed.

"Whatever. There's no way I'm wearing those to church again, nice or not." She exclaimed resolutely.

"Wait… Does that mean you're thinking of going again?" Arnold asked with astonishment plainly in his voice.

Helga was silent a little before responding. She didn't want to admit to it just yet, but she had really enjoyed the service, despite everything. The Orthodox Church was different from what she had expected. A lot more devotion and prayer were involved. It was a very spiritual experience for sure. She could see that the people around her had a deep love for God, so much so as to stand for hours praying every Sunday.

"It's whatever," she replied finally, "I mean… I wouldn't object if you asked me."

Arnold smiled and rolled his eyes. "I'll pick you up next week then."

"I'll wear my runners," she replied jokingly.


End file.
